


Yellow Smoke

by Ruis



Category: Original Work
Genre: Demon Sex, Demon/Human Relationships, Demons, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Hallucinations, How Many Knives Can One Person Wear?, Knife Kink, Knifeplay, M/M, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:50:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruis/pseuds/Ruis
Summary: “There is a price”, the demon said. “I don’t know what you want – yet – but I can tell you already that there will be a price. There always is.”
Relationships: Original Demon Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21
Collections: Writing Rainbow Yellow





	Yellow Smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).

The place was not what he’d been expecting when he had rung the doorbell of the demon’s lair with a shaking hand. The door had opened soundlessly into a dimly lit but almost disappointingly normal-looking corridor, and the dark shapes he’d almost stumbled over had proven to be merely shoes in disarray – not what Jereth had been fearing, after all. His heart was beating frantically; he wondered briefly whether the lair’s owner (and where was he, anyway?) could hear it. 

The light switch did not work. Jereth suppressed a curse and quickly made his way to the... living-room? Here, too, the general impression was that of a mildly untidy place with mismatched furnishings, but overall it looked altogether less gloomy than he would have thought, despite the dark red plush carpet and the overflowing bookshelves. The effect was quite beautiful, even, with sparkling crystals and mysterious devices of unknown purpose catching the last sunlight that fell through the large window. 

More importantly, Jereth could not see any evidence of dark magic whatsoever: no chalk circles (though he supposed demons didn’t need those anyway), no blood, no skeletons, none of the unspeakable horrors a cartoon artist would inevitably have added. The ominous structure in the corner proved to be not some strange torture device but merely a disassembled telescope that might have seen better days but was decidedly unthreatening. Even the plants on the windowsill seemed to be purely decorative. At least the ones Jereth recognized from his studies had no known magical properties beyond possibly healing the common cold, nor were they particularly toxic. It was hard to imagine a creature of darkness dwelling here.

Jereth knew better than to assume anything, though, so he was extremely careful not to touch anything while exploring. He would have loved to take a closer look at the book lying open on an antique-looking mahogany table next to an open bottle of ink but did not dare turn the pages without permission, did not even dare look at the flowing scripture too closely: demons were known to be peculiar about their possessions, and there was no need to irritate this one before they’d even met. As much as it rankled, Jereth needed this demon’s cooperation. 

The sofa at least looked comfortable enough although Jereth was almost sure he’d seen the same design in the catalogue of a certain Swedish furniture store; he thought it funny how the same item could be both the most ordinary and at the same time the most disturbing thing in the room. He decided not to dwell on this, sat down instead and waited for his host to show himself while the sun slowly and entirely undramatically went down.

The young man standing in the doorway was not what Jereth had been expecting, either. When Jereth became aware of him, he had no idea just how long the demon (who, needless to say, didn’t much look like the demons drawn by cartoon artists) had already been standing there, though Jereth had no doubt he’d been observed closely right from the beginning. The demon looked to be in his mid-twenties (this could deceive, Jereth reminded himself: the creature might be a few millennia old for all he knew) and mostly human, with light tanned skin and brown hair that fell into his yellow eyes... Mostly human, except for the eyes, and for the beauty. 

Jereth swallowed. Even with his decidedly odd outfit – jeans, a washed-out t-shirt that might have been black or dark grey once, and, incongruously, gold jewelry fit for a mythical king’s treasure – the demon was easily the most beautiful man Jereth had ever seen. Only when the demon began to speak, Jereth realized he had been staring.

“There is a price”, the demon said. “I don’t know what you want – yet – but I can tell you already that there will be a price. There always is.” He stepped closer and looked at Jereth searchingly, unsmilingly, seemed to finally come to some conclusion. “But unless I’m badly mistaken, you already know this. Good. While we negotiate, you may call me Taw. Here, have some tea.”

The offered steaming cup seemed to contain nothing more outlandish than green tea: quite good tea, in fact, though Jereth was by no means an expert. Jereth felt a small surge of pride that he managed to take a sip without too obvious hesitation, if only because he knew that the dark creature – Taw – had no need to resort to something as trite as drugged tea if he wanted to harm him. Jereth simply had to hope for the best, though he knew that was usually a bad idea when a demon was involved. 

It occurred to him he had not planned this particularly well. He had been preparing for having to fight lesser infernal creatures, for maybe having to break a magical barrier or two before he’d have an opportunity to talk to the master of the lair... Tea with an unnaturally attractive man, who was now sitting next to him, close enough to almost touch (not that he was stupid enough to try) had not featured in his plans for the day. He knew he had to be very careful not to anger Taw in order to survive this encounter. His powders and seals and knives would be no use against a higher demon. “My name is Jereth”, he introduced himself. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your writing.” He nodded at the open book. “I’m sure it is important work.” He was guessing there; he could not read infernal runes but he doubted it was a baking recipe.

The demon seemed amused by this, his smile sharp as a knife, his beautiful yellow eyes sparkling. “What would you know about my kind’s classical poetry, human?” At Jereth’s confused look, he added, “This particular poem is older than your civilization. I am merely making a copy for my youngest sister, she should grow up with this.” 

Fascinated despite himself, Jereth listened. There was so much he didn’t know about demons beyond how to conjure one (which he had never dared; he had to admit to himself he did not have the power to do that and survive the struggle) – honestly it had never occurred to him that these creature might have literature, might have a culture... And this demon, apparently, had a family; a little sister he obviously cared about. Who knew? This conversation, albeit frightening, was proving to be interesting. And surely a bit of small talk could not hurt. “Can I ask... what it is about?”

“Flying“, Taw laughed. (He was even more beautiful when he laughed, Jereth noticed.) “All the really good poems are about flying.” He reached over and stoppered the ink bottle. For a moment, he smiled cheerfully at Jereth before becoming serious again. “I’m sure your kind writes about other things. I’m also sure you’re not here to chat about poetry – as nice as that is. And I just hope you were not going to try anything with these.” He gestured vaguely at Jereth’s jacket which had knives hidden (hidden? How had the demon sensed them?) in several strategic places.

At that, Jereth had to laugh bitterly. Did Taw (and when had he started to think of an infernal creature as a person?) think he was stupid? But then, Taw might have encountered other humans before. “I’m not here to fight.”, he said quietly. “I just might need your help.” Without further explanation, he rolled up his trouser leg, letting Taw have a good look at the curse.

Taw seemed more puzzled than anything. He looked at Jereth’s lower leg, running a finger across the affected area. (Jereth shivered; tried hard not to think about why.) “I take it... this was unintentional?”, Taw asked. “I mean, you never know with humans – you’ll inhale toxic fumes and drink poison voluntarily, after all. But if you’re here, that means you probably didn’t curse yourself for fun.” He stroked Jereth’s leg some more, hummed under his breath. (Did he not notice what he was doing to Jereth? Of course he did. He had to.) “Don’t worry. I will help you.”

When a demon tells you not to worry, that was precisely the moment at which to really start worrying, Jereth thought privately. But before he could start to panic, Taw’s beautiful eyes had captured him again, the spark, the fire, and was that smoke rising? Through a cloud of yellow smoke, the room looked decidedly different, but Jereth did not have the time to think about that. He was lying on the sofa (when had Taw pushed him down? He did not remember) drowning in yellow smoke, and Taw was on top of him, stroking his hair gently, pressing a kiss on his forehead, another gentle kiss on his lips, Jereth responding enthusiastically... And then, Taw began to cut.

First, it did not hurt at all. It felt... warm, Jereth thought, with sticky liquid running down his leg, and Taw’s warm hands distracting him from thinking too much. When had he lost his shirt, when had his belt been opened, his trousers been pushed down? Impossible to think, though for one moment, when Jereth caught a glimpse of the thing in the corner of the room, he had to scream. It was with Jereth’s own knives that Taw removed the curse, though Jereth was only dimly aware of the irony. Mostly, he was feeling the pain, feeling the kisses that followed every cut, was crying – from pain, from lust, he could not tell; was there even a difference? – until finally it was over, his orgasm in Taw’s hand (had he been stroking him all along?) almost an afterthought, the whole world blanking out, turning to beautiful yellow smoke for a moment. 

He was aware of Taw holding him, petting him almost lovingly, murmuring something to him in a foreign language (was that the poem from earlier? Jereth was too exhausted to ask.), wiping the sweat from his forehead and the blood from his leg; wondered idly whether the sofa was permanently ruined, had to giggle at the thought. There had been a price, indeed. But when he fell asleep in Taw’s arms, all his fears were gone.


End file.
